


Lies Couldn't be Sweeter than You

by second_hand_heaven



Category: DCU
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Get Together, Lack of Communication, Lies, M/M, Pining, hbd ren, oblivious idiots, tim has had enough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 07:40:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17178674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/second_hand_heaven/pseuds/second_hand_heaven
Summary: "I don't feel well," Kon says, voice impossibly weak through the phone line. "Sick. Head hurts." There's a cough that sounds ridiculously fake, and Tim can barely restrain an eye roll.“Get some rest, Kon. I’ll see you-”So Conner is lying to him. That’s new.





	Lies Couldn't be Sweeter than You

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompts "I don't feel well" and "I didn't drive all the way here to say hey" for anon
> 
> Also, a birthday gift for the lovely Ren! Enjoy!

 

_ "I don't feel well,"  _ Kon says, voice impossibly weak through the phone line. 

Tim frowns, tucking his phone between his shoulder and chin while his fingers dance across the keys of his laptop. "What's wrong?" He  _ was _ trying to get the last surveillance reports done before Kon came over, but it sounds like that won’t be happening any more.

_ "Sick. Head hurts." _

He pauses the video feed, spinning around in his desk chair. "How the hell can you be sick? You're Kryptonian."

_ "Try telling Clark that," _ Conner scoffs, " _ but, you know, still half human." _ There's a cough that sounds ridiculously fake, and Tim can barely restrain an eye roll. 

“Get some rest, Kon. I’ll see you-” But Conner has already hung up. Well then. Tim stares down at his phone, hand shaking. 

So Conner is lying to him. That’s new. 

Tim’s used to being the one doing the lying, the denying, shitty excuses falling from his lips with ease. He did it for ages before Kon knew his real identity, and still does it on occasion. But the thing is, he hates every moment of lying to him, to his best friend, the one he can trust no matter what. This is different. 

Lying is one thing, but avoiding him is another. They’ve been planning this for two weeks, a weekend with just the two of them, a couple of video games, and more junk food than their combined body weight. Kon was so keen for it last time they saw each other, he flew all the way to Gotham just to say so. And to help Tim take down a few muggers, but Tim was more than capable of doing that himself. If Kon was so excited to hang out, then why was he making up cheap excuses not to see Tim? 

Tim tries to evaluate the facts, but he keeps getting stuck on the first point: Kon is avoiding him, despite being by his side almost all of the week before. It doesn’t make sense. Maybe Kon really is sick, some alien parasite in his brain, gnawing away at what little common sense the clone had. Maybe he accidently made plans, like a date with some hot Kansas girl, and is with her instead. Tim’s stomach roils, an unsettledness that he’s grown used to, despite the bitter taste in his mouth. 

Or maybe Kon is just ignoring him, avoiding him, and that though hurts even more. Either way, Tim can’t just sit in his room and wonder why Kon is acting like this, pining like a lovesick teenager (which he most definitely is  _ not).  _ He grabs his jacket and keys and slams his way out of his bedroom. 

He passes Alfred in the hallway, who quirks a dignified eyebrow at him. “Master Tim? Aren’t you expecting company?”

“Not anymore,” Tim says, trying and failing to keep the bitterness from his voice. “I’m going out. Don’t wait up.”

The eyebrow arches higher. “I’ll inform Master Bruce that the plane will be out of use for the evening,” the Brit tuts at him, all-knowing, but Tim pays no mind as he heads down to the Cave. Bruce can reprimand him later, but right now, he needs answers. 

Tim pulls up outside the front porch of the Kent house, killing his bike’s engine. It looks quiet, Ma’s truck missing from its usual spot by the side of the house. 

The BatPlane is parked in an abandoned field a few miles back, its cloaking device activated and hopefully cow-proof enough to survive until Tim gets back. 

He makes his way through the house, finding neither Ma or Pa Kent. A soft, blurred sound comes from upstairs, Kon’s room, like a conversation he can’t quite make out. Tim scales the stairs silently, the noise of the conversation growing louder. But no, not a conversation, it’s one-sided, one voice, Tim discovers with a relief he’s ashamed to feel. 

He pushes open the door and finds Kon stretched out on the bed, alone, watching TV in a pair of red boxers and nothing else. Tim bites the inside of his cheek. “Hey.”

"Tim?” Conner yelps, sitting up on the bed, pulling a pillow in front of him “What are you doing here?" He flicks off the TV, submerging the room in an awkward silence 

"Well, I didn't drive all the way here to say 'hey,' if that's what you're asking." He didn’t really  _ drive _ all the way here, anyway, but flying has to count for something, especially with the whole not-asking-permission-to-take-the-BatPlane thing. “You’re obviously not sick, so what the hell is going on?”   


"It's nothing,Tim," Kon tries, “just some stuff going on.” 

But Tim won’t let him try another excuse. Not today. "Conner, you can talk to me. If I did something wrong, if I hurt you, I'm sorry, but please talk to me."

"I said it's nothing, okay? So just forget it." Kon moves from the bed, the pillow falling to the floor where the rest of Kon’s clothes lay. 

"How can I? You're my best friend," Tim pleads, “or at least I thought you were.” He turns, so very tempted to walk out that door, even if it is just to cool down for a moment. His anger is ripe, ready for picking.

Kon yells at his back, "did you think maybe that was the problem?"

_ What? _ Tim whirls around, his brow furrowed. "You don't want to be my friend?" He swallows, trying to digest the hurtful words that stick in his throat.

"Yes! No, I-" Kon scrubs a hand across his face. "It's not like that."

"Then tell me, what it is, for God's sake! What have I done?"

"It's not you.”

"Oh really? 'it's not you, it's me?' This isn't some break-up with your girlfriend of the week, Kon."

"Screw you." Conner yells, eyes glowing a fiery red. 

Too far, Tim thinks, and holds his hands up in surrender. “Kon, c’mon. Just tell me what’s wrong and let me help you.”

His eyes back to their usual heartbreaking blue, Conner pleads with Tim. “Don't make me say it.”

Tim grits his teeth, waiting for the worst. “I need to hear it.” 

“I really like you, okay? I shouldn’t, but I do.”

Tim’s mind goes blank. “What?”

Kon keeps talking, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “Yeah, you can hate me all you want, okay? But you wanted to hear it, so here it is: I like you.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me about this?”

Kon scoffs. “What would you say? What could you possibly say?”

“I might say that I like you too, you jerk.” 

The tacked-on insult does nothing to soften admission, and Tim is met with a sharp intake of breath from Kon, like the clone was dunked in an ice bath wholly unprepared. 

When the moment wears off, Tim watches Kon shake his head, a sour smile crossing the clone’s face. “You can’t just say shit like that, Tim.”

Anger washes over Tim in a renewed onslaught. “Why not? You literally just did, how is that different?”

“I know you think you’re helping, but this is too far. Just leave.”

“Kon, c’mon,” Tim says, pleads, because  _ God, is this Kryptonian dense. _

“I said  _ leave!” _

No, no he won’t leave, not when this, when  _ Kon _ , is almost within reach. Tim steps closer. “I’ve lied to you about a lot of things, if I’m being honest.” He can’t help the smirk that tugs at his mouth at the irony. “But I’m not lying to you about how I feel, I promise you.” Tim reaches out and finds Kon’s hand hanging at his side. Kon’s lips press together in a firm line, but he doesn’t resist as Tim takes Kon’s hand in both of his own. Warmth spreads through Tim’s fingers almost immediately, warmed by the Kryptonian’s skin. He hadn’t realised how cold he was. He brings Kon’s hand to his chest, palm resting against his sternum, fingers splaying toward Tim’s sharp collarbones. “I really like you,” Tim says, his heart thrumming so heavily in his chest it must sound like an explosion to Kon’s fine hearing. “And I might even be in love with you if you would just fucking listen to me.”

Kon’s fingers flex against Tim’s chest. “I- I’m listening.”

“Good,” Tim smiles softly, “good.”

_ FIN _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Comments and Kudos are more than welcome. If you want to chat about timkon or anything else, come check out my [tumblr](http://www.tumblr.com/blog/second-hand-heaven/)
> 
> -Nova xx


End file.
